


making war/friends

by thelandscaper



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Minor Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, One Shot, POV Arya Stark, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-28 23:07:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13914102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelandscaper/pseuds/thelandscaper
Summary: The youngest Stark daughter is delighted to have one of the best blacksmiths in Westeros employed under her father. And maybe the blacksmith is just a little delighted too.





	making war/friends

She was endlessly curious, and she had heard that he was a good blacksmith-- the best one as far as the eye could see. And he was here in Winterfell at the request of her lord father Ned Stark.

With her increasing interest in combat, Arya naturally had to meet the man-child who could forge the strongest steel in the Seven Kingdoms. She wanted a taste of real Valyrian steel-- just a little. So she immediately ran down the steps and towards the forge as soon as she knew that he was moved in.

She slowed down as soon as she came into view of the doorway, seeing that her lord father was just inside. He looked over at her and smiled, stretching out an arm to welcome her. She easily accepted him, letting him have a hold around her shoulders as she shifted her eyes to take in the interior of the forge... and the young man finishing hanging his treasures. "Gendry," Ned called, getting the boy's attention.

The boy named Gendry turned around, and oh, how Arya _stared_. His eyes burned so blue, so bright that it was like she was gazing into an ocean. His hair stuck out roughly as if he didn't really care how it looked; she liked that. He had a rebellious look to him. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at her with wariness, taking her in.

"Arya, this is Gendry Waters, Mikken's new apprentice. Gendry, this is my youngest daughter, Arya."

"Waters?" she asked, unfamiliar with surnames from the southron regions.

Ned spoke. "King Robert's bastard son."

So that's why his eyes shone so blue and his hair so black. The sea coursed through him. Arya nodded slightly, understanding.

Gendry kept tight-lipped and bowed his head. "M'lady."

Arya couldn't resist. "Is it true that you can forge Valyrian steel?"

Ned laughed nervously. "Arya--"

Arya interrupted. "Would you make me a sword of Valyrian steel?"

Gendry blinked at her, giving her a look like she was nuts. "I--" He glanced at Ned for direction.

Arya turned to pleading with her father. "I don't want to sit and embroider all day. I'm not like Sansa. I'm good with my hands! I could--"

"Arya, that's enough. Go join your mother and sister." He turned to Gendry with a smile. "You're in good hands, boy. Mikken is an exceptional smith."

Gendry bowed again. "Yes, m'lord."

Ned smiled, gave Arya a pat on the back, then walked off toward the food stores. Arya seethed in place, staring after her father.

"Embroidery is hard."

Arya looked back at Gendry, surprised that he could say anything that wasn't formal. "What?"

He shrugged. "I'm just saying. I tried it once and pricked myself so many times that it looked like I had pox." He shifted a slab of steel and glanced up at Arya, who just stared at him.

After a few moments, she finally cleared her head and gave him a once over. "Thousands of lives don't rely on embroidery. They rely on good soldiers and warriors."

Gendry considered her as he worked. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Who made your pretty dress?"

Arya opened her mouth to retort, but she stopped short.

He continued. "I don't know who made my clothes, but it wasn't a man. Women make the clothes on our back. Men just make war."

He was pretty smart for a bastard. He reminded her of Jon. Still, Arya wasn't keen on losing arguments she felt passionate about. "Why are you a blacksmith, then?" she pointed out.

He looked up again and smiled at her. "I'm good with my hands," he quoted softly. "And if men are going to make war, why shouldn't I help save them from themselves?"

Arya considered Gendry carefully. He looked not yet twenty and yet he bore a wisdom she couldn't place. He had rendered her into silence, and it was difficult to silence Arya Stark. "Can you fight?"

He worked. "No."

"Then I'll teach you."

He stopped, looking at her again. At first it seemed like he might refuse her, but after a momentary stare down, he conceded. "Okay."

Arya shifted in her place, now unsure of what to say or do. She looked around, then nodded at him curtly. "Good. Tomorrow. Dawn."

He nodded. "Dawn."

She opened her mouth. "I'll leave you, then."

He bowed his head. "M'lady."

Arya shook her head. "No, you'll call me Arya."

"Lord Stark would have me address you formally as m'lady."

"My father doesn't rule me."

"But he rules me."

Her cheeks burned red. How could Gendry be so cool, so collected all the time? "No he doesn't! Good day..."

"Gendry."

"Gendry. I'll see you at dawn."

"At dawn, m'lady." 

Arya glared at him but saw the corners of his lips turn upward in the hint of a smile. She found that she liked it immensely, and that it made her stomach flutter, so she said nothing and marched out of the forge with her heart in her throat.

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, this is pretty short. To be honest, after writing this much, I ran out of ideas. I kind of wrote myself into a corner where I could have continued, but I really had nothing else to say.


End file.
